Hell Has no FuryBut He's on His Way
by Still Waters
Summary: Warning: Major character death. The final moments of Director Nicholas J. Fury. One-shot. Not related to any of my other Avenger stories.


**I'm really trying to focus on the four stories that I already have going, but these other little ideas keep popping into my head and getting in the way. Normally, I write a story, then struggle to come up with a title. That's why my titles tend to be pretty lame, particularly for my HIMYM story. This time, I was hit with what I thought was an awesome title, then I had to come up with a story to fit it. I hope you like.**

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><p><span>Hell Has No Fury...But He's on His Way.<span>

**_Hail, Mary, full of grace._**

Nick Fury took a deep breath as the words from his childhood catechism classes came to mind.

'Damn. That hurt.'

In fact, everything hurt.

His head ached. The vision in his good eye was blurry. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he ran his tongue along the edges of his broken teeth.

Another deep breath set off a coughing fit. He felt fluid bubbling in his lungs. Probably blood seeping in from punctures made by the broken ribs that he heard crunching with every breath.

Sharp, burning pain in his stomach made him think it was probably filled with blood as well.

Flexing his fingers set off new waves of pain. Multiple broken bones, undoubtedly. Small, tentative movements of his legs yielded similar results. The squishy feeling when he wiggled his toes probably meant his boots were blood-filled, too.

The big toe on his left foot, though. He could move that without pain.

It was probably just as well he couldn't see the results of the brutal assault.

**_The Lord is with thee._**

Nick had always known that he would die alone. He figured that at this point, even the Lord was no longer with him. He had done and allowed too much for forgiveness.

Too many deaths on his watch. Hundreds, probably thousands of lives lost that he was responsible for to some degree.

Red on his ledger, as Natasha would say.

**_Blessed art thou among women._**

His impending death had always been merely a matter of time. His only real regret was the red that he knew his passing would leave on someone else's ledger.

Most likely, Hill's.

Though what happened was in no possible way her fault, she would still find a way to make it her responsibility. That was part of who she was. Part of what made her so good as what she did.

And would make her a great director. Great for SHIELD. Not so great for her. She was tough, but this job was tougher. In the end, it would cost her everything, just as it had him. But she would still take it on willingly.

He hoped she would find and use the supply of stomach medicine in his desk drawer. He should have bought stock in that chalky, white stuff. Or at least be eligible for a bulk discount.

**_And blessed is the fruit of they womb, Jesus._**

He wondered briefly if his son would miss him. He and Nick, Jr.'s mother had gone their separate ways when the boy was just a toddler. Since then, their contact had been sporadic, due to the time demands of Nick's work and the desire to protect the boy from the inherent danger of being related to someone involved in his line of work.

He tried to concentrate in spite of the pain pulling at him. It had probably been three or four years since his last contact with his namesake. He knew has was doing well, earning the respect of the others he worked with in the Sheriff's department. His own son would soon be starting his senior year in high school.

He hoped they both knew how proud he was of them.

**_Holy Mary, Mother of God._**

His thoughts went to his mother. He hadn't been able to be there with her when she had passed. He had been taking care of something...he couldn't even remember what or where...when a stupid car accident had taken her. By the time he got the word, she was already interred. He'd had to pull a few strings to find out where she was buried, since his younger brother was too angry to tell him.

He had knelt by her grave, telling her how sorry he was. How he wished he had been there for her.

She had been a single mother, working hard to raise her two boys. Jacob had done quite well. Between their mother and what Nick could spare from his military pay, they had managed to afford his law school tuition and he had graduated with honors. He had taken a position in a prestigious firm and worked his way up, somehow finding the time to marry a nice girl and produce a couple of great kids.

He had certainly given their mother cause to be proud.

Nick doubted she would say the same thing about him.

At least, he wouldn't have to face her. He knew she had gone to be with the Savior she had long loved and served.

His eternal destiny would be elsewhere.

**_Pray for us sinners._**

He wondered briefly when anyone had last prayed for him. Probably his mother. He couldn't imagine anyone else in his life having any concern for his eternal soul.

Though, to be honest, he hadn't either. He figured SHIELD owned him, body and soul.

He had made that decision years ago, even knowing he would be essentially cutting himself off. SHIELD would go on without him. He was simply a cog, easily replaced.

Few would mourn him

Phil would. Phil was one of the few people he had encountered who could do this job, and do it well, without completely losing himself. He somehow held on to his compassion and humanity.

Natasha, maybe. For some reason, she seemed to have a fondness for him. Probably gratitude for his part in getting her out of her previous situation. He had to admit, the feeling was mutual.

Clint. Though considered something of a rogue, seldom following orders, he and the director had reached something of an understanding. The agent was given a bit more leeway than most and usually produced the results required.

Steve Rogers, probably. The super soldier would mourn the loss of any human life and had come to respect Fury, even if he didn't entirely like or trust him.

And Maria. What had started as a purely physical relationship based on convenience years ago had, at some point, become something more. Neither had tried to put a label on it. They had wordlessly agreed to simply enjoy having someone who wouldn't ask questions or make demands. In his mind, he admitted it might be love, but he would never say it out loud.

But she would go on. It's who she is. Strong. Beautiful. He hoped she would find someone.

**_Now and at the hour of our death._**

He took another breath, this one more shallow. It still hurt.

But not as much. In fact, the pain was starting to fade, replaced by numbness.

And cold.

Even his blurred vision was starting to fade, narrowing to a small circle. At least the buzzing in his ears was quieting. That was a plus.

He felt tired. Tired of making the hard decisions. Tired of having to justify himself to the officious assholes that made up the counsel. Tired of the secrets, the lies, the aloneness.

Tired of fighting.

With one more breath, he surrendered to the cold and dark.

**_Amen._**

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I hope you liked. Feedback greatly appreciated. I hope to have the next chapter of Complications up in the next few days. I'm also doing some thinking. There's a 30 day OTP challenge several other authors have taken. Captainhillshipper did an amazing job with SteveMaria and Loki'sArmy0602, MBrabs1996, and Davinia Serit all are beautifully working their way through 30 days of Steve/Maria. If you're a CaptainHill fan, you need to check them out if you haven't. So, I was wondering if anyone might be interested in a Nick/Maria version? Thoughts?**


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